Guilty Pleasures
by Dr. Skeletons
Summary: Even the Master of Fear needs some time to rest, relax, and indulge in his own guilty little pleasures.


***DISCLAIMER: The featured song lyrics ("The Dream Daddy For Me"), referenced book and its author ("Like Wind Through My Heart" by Charleena Purcell), and characters belong to JT Machinima, HerInteractive, and DC Comics respectively. This was written for International FanWorks Day 2018 and inspired by this post: post/159723345423/gotham-nine-nine-no-one-will-ever-believe-you-its***

The rain sent its last few droplets down, fading into a mist over the city as the night fell. Jonathan peered out his window, watching the daylight go, before dropping the blinds and pulling the curtains closed.

It was a cold, lonely day in February, and he had nothing on his schedule. The Batman was currently dealing with Joker's latest escapades, and most of the rogues were either locked up in Arkham or working on their own future plans. Jonathan went to his front door, checking the locks and placing the chain in its place. He had finished all his necessary testing hours ago, and all that was left was to wait. He deserved a break.

Confident that he was completely alone in the small apartment, and positive that he would have no interruptions, he walked over to a small cabinet by the coffee table. From it, he removed an old, beat-up CD player and a collection of disks. He flipped through the disks, considering each one as he moved to the kitchen, finally choosing and pulling a CD out of its protective plastic sheath. He placed it on the counter and turned his attention to the upper cupboards, stretching himself as far as possible to reach the highest one and remove an unopened bottle of wine.

As he walked back to retrieve the player, he grabbed a glass from his countertop, cradling the bottle in the nook of his elbow. He brought everything to the bathroom, where he had already prepared the tub. It was filled with steaming, bubbly water, a nice large foam covering the top and practically inviting him in for a soak.

Jonathan placed the CD player on the sink, popping in the disk and humming along as the lively pop music filled the air. He deposited the wine bottle and its glass on the toilet seat before removing his clothes, throwing them off to a side of the bathroom in a clumsy pile and stepping into the tub. He let out a quiet hiss as his toe touched the hot water, then let out a sigh of contentment when he gently eased himself in, sinking beneath the bubbles until only his head was visible.

"...I see you and me as a team. When we got to talking something struck me magically, the way you look at me, could you be..." the song's chorus rang out in the isolated bathroom, and Jonathan sang along as he reached his hand out of the tub, drying it on a nearby towel and reaching into a small cabinet. He pulled out a worn old book, its cover faded with age and water-stained, and used his other hand to pour himself some wine.

"Hmmm..." Jonathan mused, sipping the red liquid and opening the volume. "It's been a while since I've had some time to myself..."

The tranquility of his evening only lasted for a few more minutes, before a loud bang was heard at the door. Jonathan shot up from his reclined position, almost spilling his drink.

The bang was followed by another, this one from his living room. A high-pitched voice followed it, calling out his name. Jonathan panicked, but before he could stand up to close the door or grab a towel, a blonde head poked around the corner of the bathroom door and grinned at him.

"Heya, Doctah Crane, I—wait a second, what's goin' on here? Was there I party I wasn't invited to?" Harley jumped into the room, laughed as she took in the atmosphere. "Ohmigod, Jonnie, is that—are you listening to New Boys from the Arcade?"

"Shut up." Jonathan tried to simultaneously shut off the music and stow away his book, but Harley grabbed his hand.

"What's this?" She held up the book, squinting as she attempted to make sense of its well-loved cover. "Charleena Purcell's 'Like Wind Through My Heart'. Ooh, sounds good. A bit cheesy for what I'd expect you to like, but I'm sure it gets spooky in here somewhere." She opened it to a random page, taking a breath as though about to read aloud before her eyes widened and she choked on air. "Jonnie. _Jonnie_. This is... this is LEWD!" She practically screamed with mirth, playfully whacking Jonathan on the head with the paperback. For his part, Jonathan was somehow both red with embarrassment and pale with mortification.

"It's... it's a classic..." he tried, but that only made Harley laugh more.

"A classic? A classic what? This, honey," she straightened up, doing her best mockery of a stern attitude. "This is what we call a 'romance novel'. And a very bad one, at that. Mistah Jay and I read 'em for kicks, we like ta laugh at all their silly writin'. Don't tell me you actually take these seriously?"

Jonathan shrugged, refusing to meet her eye. "I like them. Charleena Purcell's my favorite author. And that's her best book."

Harley raised her eyebrows in disbelief before tossing the novel over her shoulder, ignoring Jonathan's wince as it hit the ground completely open. Instead, she turned her attention to the wine.

"Oooh, fancy, what kind?" She picked up the bottle on the pretense of reading the label, thought better of it, and took a swig. Immediately her face morphed into a grimace and she stuck her tongue out. "Ewww, this is that cheap crap you get at gas stations. Get some class, Doctah Crane."

Before Jonathan could defend himself her attention had shifted again, and this time it was on him. She took in his image, an awkward figure attempting to both be intimidating and furious while remaining completely beneath the surface of the bubble bath, and puffed her cheeks out with barely repressed laughter.

"Oh, Jonnie... Is this... Did I interrupt your me-time?" Her breath was coming out in gasps as she attempted to maintain her composure. Jonathan merely glared at her.

"Yes. Yes you did. And I would very much appreciate it if you did not speak a word of this to anyone. Not even Joker." Harley began to pout, opening her mouth to argue, but Jonathan cut her off. "I mean it, Harleen. No one. Or I swear to God, I am not above using my toxin on your hyenas."

Harley's pout deepened into a frown. "Now that's a low blow, Doctah Crane. I'd never hurt one of your birdies!" She paused, and the two sat there in awkward silence for a minute before she continued. "Fine. It'll be our little secret! Yay! I'll even buy you better wine!"

Jonathan groaned in protest, sinking back beneath the safety of his bubbles and closing his eyes.

"... Hey, Doctah Crane?"

"Yes, Harleen?"

"What's with the bubbles?"

Jonathan's eyes popped open just in time to see Harley begin to move the bubbles around, equal parts curious and excited to play with the slightly sticky foam. He shot up once more, hands flying beneath the water to preserve what little dignity he had left.

"Harley!"

"What?" She looked up at him, all innocence. Jonathan sighed.

"Please do not do that."

"Do what?"

"Move the bubbles."

"But why not?"

"Doctor Quinzel, I refuse to believe that you do not know the exact reason why I do not want you to continue playing with the bubbles while I am bathing. Now, stop it!"

Harley's cheeks went red while he was talking, and she pulled her hand back. "Oh, sorry," she muttered sheepishly. "Whoopsies. I didn't mean ta..."

"I know, child," he sighed, but pulled his knees up to his chest all the same. "But next time think before you do something. Anything. Not just in circumstances like these."

"Oh, ya think there'll be loads more circumstances like these?" Harley teased, the mischievous glint returning to her eye. Jonathan growled, glaring at her, and she relented. She crouched next to the tub for a few more minutes, taking in her surroundings, before talking again.

"So... New Boys from the Arcade, huh? You a boy band fan?"

"Just them."

"They're great! I snuck away from Mistah Jay to go catch a concert years back, I loved 'em!"

Jonathan grinned. "I've been to five of their concerts. I've even got a signed poster!"

"What? No way! Does that mean you've met them?"

"Of course."

"Are they really as hot in person? To tell ya the truth, I always really liked—"

A far-off noise cut her off, and both heads snapped in the direction of the apartment building's hallway.

"...Harley? Why, exactly, are you here again?"

Harley smiled shyly, shrugging slightly. "Well, B-Man kinda found me an' my puddin's' hideout. He was either chasin' me or Jokah, and I figured I could pop by and stay here for a bit, just to wait until the heat died down? You said I could stay with you anytime I wanted, last time we were in Arkham."

"And you're sure that he was chasing Joker?" The noises sounded suspiciously like heavily armored footsteps, and they were getting closer. Harley bit her lip, turning towards the bathroom's door and grabbing the toilet plunger for a weapon.

"Well..."

The sound of his apartment door being slammed off its hinges a second time that night made both of them wince, and Harley looked back at Jonathan over her shoulder, shoulders raised and ready to flee.

"Sorry," she squeaked out, and Jonathan let out a high whine, sinking as far underneath the water as he could.

"Great. This is just great."

Batman was visible in the hallway, and at that moment Jonathan Crane met his end. His body sank completely under the foam, officially dead from shame.


End file.
